


Persevering Glow

by impish_nature



Series: Lighthouse Keeper AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Ghost Stories, Lighthouse Keeper AU, Old Age, Urban Legends, enduring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: Lighthouse keeper AU! The lighthouse keeper’s nightly routine and the mystery of the lighthouse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick piece to go with this art here  
> http://garrulousgibberish.tumblr.com/post/151611073308/digital-inktober-7-the-wind-howled-shrilly-as  
> @garrulousgibberish. Cause it’s amazing and I’ve said since the charity stream that I wanted to write something for this AU (or well the cute thing I thought was meant the first time round haha)

On cold dreary nights, when the stars hide behind the shelter of clouds and even the moon stays behind cover to fend away the biting wind and leaves an impenetrable darkness in its wake, it was said that a light glimmers on, warm and soft to take its place. Somehow guiding people home across the sea, even though no one was there to man it.

Many a tale had been told of this flickering light, pale and thready and barely held together, as if hope was all that kept it lit, high up in the old rickety lighthouse. The man who lived there would laugh away the talk. Shrug off the myths and the legends. He’d tell you to keep on looking though, if you really believed what you’d seen, if it meant you’d come and visit him again- to buy trinkets from his shop, of course.

If you pressed him hard enough though, you might even get a sigh, a shake of the head and a twist of the mouth.

“Ain’t no use chasing those kinds of tales, my friend, those kinds of tales get you into trouble.” He’d say, a stern tint to his eye and his eyebrows furrowed. “That old lighthouse above my shop is in disrepair, the stairs rotted years before I got here, there’s nothing but empty space between here and the light. Ain’t no man that resides up there if anything does at all.”

“And if you think for one minute that, whatever it is up there, keeps that lighthouse lit to help old sailors reach home, well…be sure to get that out of your head before you put your faith in it and the waves.”

He’d lean in close, eyes shifting up above to stare at the ceiling as if worried he’d be overheard before setting eyes on you again.

Most who have got that far tell those who are curious not to ask. That at that moment it feels like there’s more than just one set of eyes burrowing into their own.

Better to let it lie, leave it be, the townspeople say. There’s a reason that the old man loses his jovial mask and goes cold and strict.

“Mark my words, those kinds of tales get you into trouble.”

* * *

_Thunk. Thunk._

Shoes thudded against wooden steps, the sound muffled and muted instead of carrying down to the bottom of the stairwell.

The old man squinted past the light, twisting and tweaking at the lamp as he tried to make sure he didn’t miss a step in the perpetual darkness and the small glow that seemed too dim for him to even see his feet.

But he couldn’t have the light too bright, couldn’t risk the youngsters in their beds down below catching even the whiff of a mystery when it came to the old light at the top of the lighthouse.

So far the stories from the townspeople had been unfounded, the boy already bored and disappointed after all-nighters where nothing gave the ghostly glow he had anticipated.

He intended to keep it that way.

“I’m getting too old for this.”

The words came out in a ghost of breath, ice coiling up away from him before vanishing in the heat of the lamp in his hands. The light gave almost no heat for his comfort as he kept it low and dim, trying to sneak up the steps and not fall to his doom on the rickety steps, that he could not fix for fear of questions, all in one go.

And in doing all he could it showed the task at hand was greater than his own discomfort. Even as he grumbled about the chill seeping into his bones, the grate of his knees and back as he pushed them up the apathetic steps.

Even as his shoulder stiffened up and seemed to burn with every passing day as the colder winds seemed to draw in across the waves.

Even knowing that what he must do was nigh on impossible he found himself pulling himself up the steps night after night, month after month…year after year.

He might tell the punters to fear the light, to be wary of its call when out at sea, but there was an underlying hope to it all, that one day it would guide the right person home again.

“I really am getting too old for this.” The voice came out more of a groan than actual words this time as the man finally found himself at the top of the steps, hand going to the small of his back as his eyes trailed back down his mountain with a small amount of pride.

A small battle was won every night, just enough to keep him going.

He took a moment to breathe, eyes trailing across the view, let the briny air fill his lungs as the waves crashed far below him on the rocks, a reminder as to why he was there, constant and steady as a drum beat.

The inky dark sea, mirrored the sky above, the gloom glittering silver as the clouds parted and the stars became visible. The moon’s glow shown on the rock just enough for him to see but he knew deep down it wasn’t enough.

The moonlight would never be enough to bring him home.

He turned his back to the glass, hands on his hips as he regarded the large light beside him, ready to once again get back to work as he did every night.

The old man, in the old lighthouse, toiling away night after night.

As if he’d ever had the option to stop.


End file.
